


walking out of time (looking for a better place)

by CassandraStarflower



Series: lovely [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Cassandra Cain, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Cassandra Cain-centric, Child Abuse, Gen, Good Sibling Cassandra Cain, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, POV Second Person, Present Tense, and a later canon incident involving tim, involving background characters, of the child soldier variety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-12 16:33:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29013615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CassandraStarflower/pseuds/CassandraStarflower
Summary: Cassandra Cain, loneliness, and pain.A character study of DC’s most badass ex-assassin.
Relationships: Cassandra Cain & Tim Drake
Series: lovely [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2123244
Kudos: 26





	walking out of time (looking for a better place)

**Author's Note:**

> I was less familiar with Cass’s full story before writing this, and had to look some things up, so there may be inaccuracies. Call it creative license. I also left out some stuff because it simply Did Not Spark Joy.

You were created to be the perfect weapon. 

You  _ are _ the perfect weapon, trained to the peak of excellence in the art of fighting, of martial arts. The language of the body is the language you speak, the only language you speak. The only one you have ever known. 

(You are the only one who is so fluent in this language.)

You are not meant to be anything else. 

Your childhood is silence and constant training. You sleep on a mat on the floor. You wake with the sun and obey your father in all things. 

You don’t know any different. 

(Your childhood is a lonely one, and someday you will compare it to your little brother’s and find too many similarities.)

You know your father, you know fighting, you know pain. 

These three things are closely linked. 

You learn to read your opponent’s body like other children learn to read books. You learn to watch the people around you and to see what they would never say. What they are screaming, silently, inaudibly. 

You learn to predict their movements with complete accuracy, to slip under their guard and take them down as quickly and precisely as you can. 

(It is very quick and precise. You know nothing else.)

You are a weapon, the perfect, ultimate weapon, that your father has sought to create for so many years. 

You do not know that it is  _ wrong  _ for a long time. 

(You do not know that your father is wrong. Evil. Bad. All you know is the violence.)

It happens on a day that is like any other. 

You wake with the sun. You are collected from your sleeping place by your father. 

The day quickly becomes not like any other. 

Your father takes you to a car, and you sit and wait, obedient, as the scenery passes by. 

You have never left the compound before. 

There is a plane, and you are leaving the country you have lived in since you were born. 

(You don’t know these words, yet. You will learn them, someday. You will learn many things that were kept from you.)

Your father takes you off the plane to a new place. 

You fight a man, and you defeat him. 

He does not fight back, confused and frightened. You assume that he is simply taken by surprise. Your father has done this before, sent in people to attack you and make sure you are ready at all times. 

You stand over the fallen man. He breathes quickly, wide and frightened eyes fixed on you. 

He should be watching your father. 

A weapon only does what its handler wants it to. 

(You are a wicked-sharp knife, a loaded gun, a blade made too sharp and too thin.) 

(You are everything your father wanted.)

(You are-)

Your father gives you an order, gesturing sharply as he demonstrates a move. You have used this move on dummies before. It is like so many times before. 

You obey. 

You watch in horror as the man on the ground dies, the life fading out of him. 

_ Terror, and then… nothing.  _

You look up at your father, certain that he didn’t know, surely. That he will be equally horrified. 

He is not. 

He is pleased. 

(You are not what your father wanted. You are not willing to take any more lives.)

That is the day you flee your father forever. 

It is not easy. 

You run, incapacitating every one of your father’s men that you come across (no killing- never killing. Never again. You watch them a moment after each time, making sure they still breathe.)

You escape from your father and into the real world. 

It is confusing. 

(People are confusing.)

The people in the real world, away from your father, make sounds with their mouths, and do not speak the way you do. 

You mimic them, try to learn their way. It is hard. You cannot get very far.

You keep moving. 

(You keep trying to help. You want to help. You want to be good.) 

You come to a new city. You save a woman in an alleyway from a big, hungry man. 

(You don’t know what he wanted. In some ways, you are naive still. You only saw his hunger.)

The woman smiles at you, wary, but grateful. 

You want people to smile at you like that. 

You want to be  _ good. _

It is not long, though, before your father’s men find you. 

You take them down and flee again. 

From city to city, over and over again, running from your father’s men time after time, until you arrive in a city that is dirty and filled with violence. 

You try to help people. 

(You just want to be good.)

Over and over and over again. 

It is easy enough, with your gifts. 

Eventually, you attract attention. 

Not your father, this time. 

(David Cain is afraid to enter Gotham. The city has a tendency to swallow people whole, and even the best of the best are not safe. Not in a city that spawns new horrors every day, not in a city that created the Joker and the Batman and  _ so much more.  _ Your father is afraid of Gotham, and you are not.)

This time, you attract the attention of a more benevolent figure. 

The Batman, and his allies. 

(Benevolent, at least compared to your father. You are not afraid of Batman. He wants to help people. And he  _ never kills. _ )

You start living with Barbara and learning to read and speak, and you are called Batgirl and fight crime with allies. 

Allies who never kill. 

You are good now. You have a good family now. 

Bruce adopts you. You have brothers now. 

Dick, Tim, even angry murderous Jason. 

You have Stephanie to patrol with and talk to. 

(Until she dies.) 

(And comes back again, alive and well, and you still don’t quite understand what happened in the first place but you are happy.)

You have Tim, your little brother who was afraid of you at first. But he is not anymore. You patrol with him and watch him light up when he talks. 

(You don’t understand a lot of what he’s saying, but it makes him happy when you listen. You want to be good. You want to make people happy.)

You have Bruce, your father, who is often a little bit sad and who always smiles when he sees you. 

(You don’t understand why he’s sad, at first, until Tim tells you about how Jason died and how it tore Bruce apart. You think you get it, now.)

You have a family. One that doesn’t always make sense, but you are happy. 

You are happy until your new father dies, even with all the other things that happen. 

(You lose your gifts and have to start over again, with Lady Shiva. You learn that Lady Shiva is your mother, and you fight her. Again. Again. You want to die. She wants to die. It is an impossible match.)

(You lose. You die. You come back again, drowning in green, and you understand, for a moment, Jason’s murderous rage. It is  _ so hard. _ The green surrounds you.) 

(You breathe. You lock down your muscles. You employ every bit of your immense self-control.)

(You do not kill. You do not let yourself kill.) 

(You fight Lady Shiva again.)

(You win. And you do not kill her. Is it mercy? You aren’t sure anymore.) 

(Bruce is proud of you, though. You are good, you think, as long as he is proud of you. Right?)

(Bruce dies.)

(You remember why you cannot stake your morality on any one person. Why you cannot rely on someone else to tell you what is right and wrong.)

In the wake of Bruce’s death, Tim leaves. You will follow him, soon enough. 

First, you give Stephanie your mantle. She is Batgirl now. 

You leave Gotham. 

You do not chase after Tim, who is busy with his own troubles. 

(Searching for Bruce. You have not seen him. You do not know how sure he might be of whether Bruce is alive. You do not know.)

(You hope that he is right. You miss your dad. You want him back. Not just for yourself, but for your siblings, who are scattered far and wide. Not physically, most of them. But.)

You go to Hong Kong. You stop bad people. You fight crime. 

You are still good. You still help. 

You are doing the right thing. Even if you abandoned Gotham, abandoned your family. You are doing the right thing. You are being good. 

Tim finds you in Hong Kong and gives you a copy of your old costume. He tells you that he’d like it if you still fought crime in Batman’s symbol. Even if you aren’t Batgirl anymore. 

He leaves again, tired and running himself ragged. 

You put on the new costume and think up a name for yourself. A Bat name. 

_ Black Bat. _

You stop the bad people again, you fight crime, you help people. 

You learn new things. 

Your little brother calls you for help. 

(He is in over his head. Again. He is good at that. They say, outside of the family, outside of his friends, that he is the most careful one. He is not. You know this for a fact.)

(Your little brother. How you love him. How you love all of them.)

You go rescue him-

(how dare she try to hurt him? you can read her intent, and tim’s fear.  _ hungry,  _ again. like the man so many years ago. you know what that means now. you hit her, hurt her. you are angry, so angry.)

-and stab him through the back. 

It is only a game, you tell yourself, as your little brother collapses with blood everywhere, closing his eyes, a blade jutting from his chest. Only a game.  _ A game.  _ It is okay, it’s okay, you are still good, you have not killed him.

(You see, for a moment, the man. The one you killed. You see him go limp and die.  _ Terror, and then nothing. _ You breathe and watch the faint flicker of Tim’s eyelids. He is alive. You are still good. You did not kill your little brother.)

You win the tournament. 

You and Tim dig up all the secrets that Tim came here for and the two of you defeat your opponents, together. 

You go back to Hong Kong. 

Tim goes back to Gotham. 

Bruce is alive. 

Your father is alive. Your  _ real _ father, the one who loves you and understands you better than David Cain ever did. 

You go home, eventually. 

You want to help them. You want them to be safe. You go home and sit down at the table with them. 

Tim is home safe, with Bruce and Alfred and Damian, and your new little brother Duke. 

You are glad. You want your family to be safe and happy. 

You hate seeing them in pain. It hurts you, too. 

(You are always in pain. Not physical pain, though that is frequent too, what with your lifestyle, upbringing, and frequent injuries.)

(No, your heart is hurt. You have been forced to do so many awful things. You want to be good. You want to be better.)

(You are. You just need time to realize it.)

Your family surrounds you again, and you lay your head on Stephanie’s shoulder and link hands with Tim and watch a movie with everyone piled onto couches, curled up in armchairs, chattering and watching the screen and happy and safe. 

You realize, later, that no one is afraid of you, of what you could do. No one holds that man’s death against you. You are not the only one with blood on your hands, and you are not the only one who is trying to be better. 

You are already better. 

You are already good. 

You have been good your whole life. 

You deserve good things. 

You deserve to have this family. 

(You are already good.)

**Author's Note:**

> This one is the shortest, sorry! She’s got a kinda short comic history, probably because DC hates women and anybody who isn’t white. And straight. And… yeah.   
> Come find me on tumblr @cassandra-starflower!


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